


Please Be Real

by Fire_Bear



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dragons, Fantasy, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has just gotten a job at the publishers which produced his favourite book series, The Corrinia Saga. He loves that book series because of the unique characters, especially Alfred. Arthur really, really wishes that Alfred was real...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story on ff.net that I intend to finish but is one of several I've decided I'll only transfer over here once I've written a new chapter. And I have so here it is. 
> 
> Also, warning - updates will be slow because I have so many stories to continue writing. =/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is the first line in the Grimms' Brothers stories. And I will be taking the first line or sentence from famous (or not so famous) books for all the chapter titles.

"So, Mr. Kirkland. Can you tell us what experience you have?"

"Of course," answered the young man. "I have a Masters in English Literature and Creative Writing, for which I received a First, mainly because I went above and beyond the course requirements. With my free time there, I read many more books than asked of me and used the knowledge I was gaining to work out where improvements could be made. And I applied this knowledge to the Writing Society I attended."

"Brilliant," said the interviewer across the table with a bright smile. He scribbled something down on the paper he was using to record the most interesting parts of their conversation. "Any _work_ experience you could tell us about?"

Arthur grimaced. "I'm afraid not. However, I've been working in a local bookshop which I was fortunate to get a place at. There, I've been in a role which requires me to serve customers, attending to their needs. I am fairly sure I could apply this to the people this company works with. And the shop works as a team to keep everything running smoothly – I am sure this applies to here, as well, so I have experience dealing with colleagues."

"Do you get on well with your colleagues?"

"Oh, yes. They're a fun, friendly lot. We usually end up in the pub together after work. So I'm able to help them out and chatter away to them. Our customers always comment on how relaxed the place feels. There always seem to be more people there than at the library!" Arthur chuckled a little, hoping that the man opposite him would find it amusing as well. He was relieved when the man grinned.

"Of course. Libraries may be on the way out, unfortunately."

"I hope not," said Arthur with another grimace. "I'll always have a soft spot for a hushed library."

"Hm, okay. So, why do you want to work for Hurlington Publishing?"

"There are an awful lot of books out in the world which I feel could have been touched up a little before being put on the shelves. Some are simply atrocities. _I_ would simply adore helping people to better their work and to help their dreams come true. And what's better than being the first to read a popular book, lording it over your more doubtful friends." They both chuckled at that one. "Also, you happen to publish my favourite book series."

"Oh, really? And what one's that, then?"

"The Corrinia Saga," Arthur replied instantly, blushing a little.

"Ah, yes. That one _is_ quite popular. You're not just applying to meet the author, right?" The man grinned at Arthur, seeming quite amused.

"Heavens, no!" exclaimed Arthur. "I very much doubt I'll ever meet him. Especially since I keep missing his book signings." He sighed wistfully, his head bowing in defeat.

"Well, then, where do you see yourself in five years?"

"I applied to do my PhD a while ago. However, I wasn't accepted and I was hoping that I could reapply in the future. Of course, if I don't get the chance to do so, I'd rather like to be working in Hurlington's, perhaps more than just as an assistant."

"Interesting," said the guy, chirpily. "Now, what three words would your friends use to describe you?"

"Punctual, reliable and determined," Arthur said, promptly. He would have liked to get creative in there, too, but he never showed anyone his work. Everything was in an unfinished state and there was no way he could face having people judge his writing just yet.

"Great, great," said the employer. "Do you have any questions for me?" he asked.

Arthur was only too happy to ask some and started in on his memorised list.

* * *

When Arthur hung up, he turned to his flatmate and grinned. "I did it! I got the job!"

"Omedetō, Arthur-kun," Kiku replied, a small smile on his lips. "You worked hard for it."

"Thanks," breathed Arthur. He ran a hand through his hair. "I was rather worried I wouldn't get it. And I have to hand in my notice and- Gosh, I have so much to do!"

"First, though," said Kiku, attracting his attention again. "Perhaps you should celebrate?"

"Definitely," said Arthur with a devilish grin. Kiku returned it.

"Shall I invite the usual people?" his friend asked him.

"Of course," said Arthur. "I'm going to go get changed into something more suitable."

"Hai," agreed Kiku as he pulled out his mobile.

* * *

Arthur straightened his pale, green shirt once again, sighing. Kiku had forbidden him from drinking too much, remembering the last time he had 'celebrated' something. So he was talking with 'friends' whom he wasn't too fond of. It wasn't any fault of theirs. In fact, it was probably his fault.

Books and their intricate worlds were his speciality – it was such a shame people got bored if Arthur prattled on for long enough. Arthur and Kiku knew these people from various places. Most of them, however, were from Kiku's computing course. They were the sort to play hours upon hours of games. Unfortunately, Arthur had no clue what they were talking about most of the time.

Some of the conversation veered towards personal matters. Who was dating who, scandalous behaviour, intricate love triangles that people wished would be sorted out soon so they coo over the new couple. The recently-hired publishing assistant didn't give a toss about people he was unaware about.

He sighed and sipped at his _one_ rum and Coke he was allowed to have, savouring the burning of alcohol in his mouth. The night had started out all right. Everyone was happy for him and let him talk of all his new opportunities. He spoke about how he would probably miss that old bookshop which had carried him through uni.

But then they had gotten bored and turned to Kiku who indulged in their whims. Arthur glanced at his flatmate and one true friend at the table. The Japanese man noticed and, since he was not included in the conversation either, he leaned towards Arthur.

"I am terribly sorry, Arthur-kun," he muttered.

"It's nothing to worry about, Kiku."

"Perhaps we should have done this tomorrow when the others were less busy."

Arthur shook his head. "No, no. It _is_ a bit short notice, after all."

Indeed, it was so short notice that no-one was available for this Friday night. Kiku's old student flatmates were on a date together which was a shame because Arthur liked them both well. As long as Feliciano didn't try to hug him too much. The other bookshop workers were also busy, all at various parties or a wedding or babysitting or just too worn out from a busy day to be able to face leaving their comfortable houses.

He accepted all their excuses with grace, of course. It was likely they were all true. However, part of him pointed out that, perhaps, they _were_ only excuses not to have to talk to him. Not that he was all that bothered – or he wouldn't be if he had more alcohol. Making sure Kiku was once again absorbed in his conversation, Arthur sighed wistfully.

What he really wanted to be doing, in all honesty, was reading a good book, curled up in his bed. Or getting drunk. Perhaps if he slipped away from Kiku, he could get himself another drink without him noticing...

* * *

"Ow! That 'urt!"

"This is why I told you not to drink, Arthur-kun," sighed Kiku, barely holding him up.

"Well, I wash shelebrating," slurred Arthur as he banged into the railing again. They managed two more steps before Arthur moaned in pain. "'S'sore!" he whined.

"Arthur-kun..." said Kiku, rather hesitant. "There is more rum in your room-"

"Excellent!" yelled Arthur, suddenly lucid and upright. He charged up the stairwell, unlocked their front door and rushed inside, letting the door slam shut.

Kiku found him collapsed in front of his bedroom where his sudden burst of energy had run out.

* * *

After the hangover had worn off, the apologies had been given, he had handed in his notice and, thankfully, returned home instead of working – thank the Lord for days off – Arthur collapsed onto his bed and wondered what to do. Reading a book was tempting but... He glared at the large pile of books stacked precariously on his desk. There were so many interesting worlds there that he was unsure which one to start with. After all, he should probably read the one at the bottom which had been present for long enough. But that would involve a lot of rearranging and Arthur didn't have the energy.

Maybe he could do some writing. However, trying to come up with a way to phrase himself well took more effort than he really wanted to do at the moment. And there was the fact that, having read over a previous attempt, he had scrapped the whole lot since it was undeniably rubbish. Sure, he could fix other people's work and he could write fan fiction but if he had sat down to do a serious bit of writing everything went out the window.

Speaking of fan fiction, though...

Arthur got up, groaned at the movement and grabbed his laptop from beside the tower of books. Flipping it open, he pressed the power button and waited for it to load up. His eyes flickered to a certain series of books which had pride of place on his bookcase and he grinned widely.

The Corrinia Saga was set in a magical world where warlocks and witches travelled freely. Knights battled dragons and saved princesses. But it was more than that – the author had taken well-known mythical creatures and twisted them. Dragons could become ordinary humans, blending in with the populace, using their wealth to attract women. Fairies were the same height as humans and kept well away from children. Vampires were unaware of their nature, being killed by 'heroes' while they were still confused over the blood on their hands.

It was a completely different world yet so hauntingly familiar.

In the midst of this world, a knight called Alfred would save towns and cities from the evil which assailed them. Saving princesses was his speciality and would have them home, safe and sound, before the Kings had gotten their armies together. However, he was different from the other knights in that place.

He didn't want to marry the princesses he had recovered from certain death.

When Arthur had read that, he had ranted about it to his brothers for days. His schoolmates had gotten tired of him after a while, too. But he had thought it was outstanding – the end of the first book and none of the happy endings expected had happened. He still got excited about it when he would read it again.

Other characters were introduced in the next book, like the rival, Francis. He competed with Alfred to be the best knight in the world. Of course, typically, they ended up working somewhat together to save a princess. And, after all of that effort in their first collaboration, they were chased from the palace because Francis had taken the naïve princess to bed. (Alfred had loved that, laughing as they rode off into the sunrise – Arthur had growled at it and ranted to everyone once again. It didn't help that he used French words as endearments to sound more exotic.)

Not all of the characters which cropped up again and again were men, however, and Sakura was introduced in book three. She was a princess betrothed to a prince from a far off land but who had a tendency to be kidnapped and placed in mortal danger. Both Alfred and Francis would strive to save her – usually being tricked into going somewhere else before the finale – and would return her to the palace. She was the only princess ever to be grateful and relieved that Alfred didn't want to marry her. For that, Arthur had the utmost respect for the character, despite the amount of time she spent trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

The books were still being produced and there were now a total of ten, one for each year since it started. Arthur had filled himself to the brim with as much knowledge about the world, reading and rereading the books, subscribing to updates, watching interviews. The only thing he hadn't done was be present at a signing. Or he would be present but they would run out of time before he got to the front of the queue. He was bitterly disappointed by that fact.

Then he had met Kiku and his world widened a bit. Kiku also liked the books – not to the same extent as Arthur, of course, but he did show Arthur something he knew about. Apparently, there was fan art and fan fiction and role playing websites. It was interesting to see others' interpretations and findings from their scrutiny. Arguments about who was better between Francis and Alfred and the 'shipping' wars were exhilarating. It was amazing: Arthur was addicted within minutes.

Now, he opened his Internet browser and hurriedly loaded up a fan site. Excitedly, he began to look through the recent submissions and found several new fan fictions (most of which paired Alfred with Francis. This irked him greatly, even though them being gay would be an interesting twist) and a few pictures. Seeing as they all had the tag of 'Alfred', Arthur got rather excited.

Bringing up the first picture, Arthur sighed happily. There he was in all his glory. His perfect blonde hair, with its one strand which stuck up whatever he did. Those determined blue eyes staring out of the screen. His hand resting delicately on the hilt of his sword, reins in his other as he walked his horse beside him.

Looking through all the pictures, he finally came upon one which depicted the scene from the first book where Alfred rejected the King's offers of riches and the kingdom. His eyes were wide and apologetic, his mouth turned downwards, his cloak fluttering in the wind from the large windows. A speech bubble displayed the words he had interrupted the King with, the King who got his own way all the time, the King who was not used to being interrupted. 'Sir, I must protest!'

"Sir, I must protest," sighed Arthur, a little dreamily. With those words, he startled himself and glanced around the room. Luckily, Kiku was out so there was no way he would be overheard. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he turned back to his screen and brushed his fingertips lightly against the part with the words. He stared at Alfred for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Sir, I must protest!" he said, louder this time. "Stop being fictional and very attractive, you giant git!"

Hearing the front door open and close, Arthur clapped a hand over his mouth and stared at his own door, blood thumping in his ears. He really needed to stop talking to himself – Kiku would probably look at him funny if he caught him mooning over a picture. Thankfully, he had calmed somewhat when Kiku knocked on the door and entered cautiously.

"I'm home," he said, softly.

"Welcome back," Arthur replied with a smile.

"Would you like me to cook dinner?"

"If you'd like. In fact, I could help...?"

"No, no! No. I can manage. You should relax, since it is your day off."

Nodding, Arthur glanced back at his computer screen. "I'm sure I can find a way to occupy myself in the meantime."

Kiku coughed into his hand and shuffled until Arthur's attention was returned to him. "I have drawn you another Alfred picture as a present."

"A present?"

"For congratulations."

"Oh, Kiku," said Arthur, smiling a little more. "You didn't really need to. Honestly! The job is present enough, you know."

"Nevertheless, I will bring it to you later."

"Mm," said Arthur. He turned back to his computer as Kiku slipped out of the door.

* * *

Arthur loved Kiku's drawings. They were always in a manga (so he was told) style and they looked brilliant. Sometimes he would draw scenes from the book. Other times it would be scenes from a fan fiction. But, most of the time, just for Arthur, he would draw Alfred looking at his most attractive, smiling out of the page at him.

After living with Kiku for nearly five years, Arthur had amassed quite a collection. He pinned them to a large notice board he had bought once he had realised just how many he had tacked up. Luckily, the notice board was propped against the wall and could be turned if they had guests. Arthur may have loved the books and the character but it was no reason to let his little brother poke fun of him.

Lovingly, Arthur pinned the new picture up, marvelling at Alfred wearing his old school uniform. Arthur had been so surprised that Kiku had put so much effort into it. His friend had told him that he had wanted to make the present special as a celebration should always be special. However, Arthur had the sneaking suspicion that he had started it well before he knew about his acceptance and it would have been a consolation prize.

He stared at it for a moment before grinning and clasping his hands. Alfred looked so good in those clothes. Biting his lips, Arthur shuffled around some of the other numerous sheets of paper. "God, I wish you _were_ real," he muttered to himself. "And that you had gone to my school. If only, eh?" Then he realised he was talking to paper and he sighed, spinning away from the board. He was exhausted from the past few days and he needed some rest. It was high time for bed.

* * *

In his bed, oblivious to the world, in a deep sleep, Arthur rolled over. He mumbled something in his sleep but otherwise made no noise. Silence and darkness swirled through the room, shutting out the world separated from it.

The sleeping Englishman was in so deep a sleep that he never woke when ten books in his bookcase began to glow a bright green. One in particular began to glow brighter than the rest, starting to shake in its place. A low rumbling sound started, rising in a crescendo until, suddenly, a shape fell forward from the bookcase.

It was a large, dark shape. Human-sized. It landed on the ground where it stayed still for a few moments. Then it groaned and shifted slightly before lying still once more.

Even breathing from both Arthur and the shape were the only sounds which broke the silence which had descended once again.


	2. It Was 7 Minutes After Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from part of the opening lines of The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night-Time. I thought this would be apt because the lines basically describe how someone finds a dead dog lying there. And Arthur finds Alfred lying at the bottom of his bed.

Arthur woke slowly. When he became aware of the light filtering through his curtains, he groaned softly and rolled over, getting himself more comfortable. Sunday was his lazy day, after all. There was never any need to be anywhere or do anything. He supposed that would stop when he became busy as a publishing assistant.

With a heavy sigh a few minutes later, he slipped from under the covers and, yawning, he headed to the bathroom. There he went through his morning routine of relieving himself, brushing his teeth and trying to make sense of his hair. The latter never happened, however, so he gave up and, stretching, he made his way back to his room so he could change out of his pyjamas.

In his room, however, he stopped and gaped at something which had certainly not been there the night before. It looked like a pile of clothes at the end of his bed. Although... Was that the light reflecting from some sort of metal? Hesitantly, he took a few steps forward and squinted at it. Wait... was that a _chestplate_?

Cautiously, Arthur moved forward till he was standing beside the pile. Slowly, he lifted his foot and poked the pile with his toe.

Suddenly, it shifted and groaned. With a harsh gasp, Arthur backed up as far as he could go, crashing into the bedroom door and closing it with a sharp click. The pile seemed to stiffen and Arthur froze as well. Slowly, whatever it was shifted again until Arthur was sure he could see a face peering at him. He tried to back away further, but, since he had a solid barrier to contend with, he didn't get very far.

They stayed like that for several minutes, before, suddenly, the thing leaped into the air, a cry emitting from it. Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away, terrified by what it could be. "What have you done, foul warlock?!" exclaimed the thing and Arthur turned back and opened his eyes to stare at it.

The pile of clothes had, in fact, been a person, wearing armour. A sword in its scabbard was tied to his belt and a cloak was attached to the metal plate used to protect his torso. There was no helmet to protect him, however, and his face was clear to see. Blonde hair, a stubborn strand sticking up. A mouth with plump lips pulled down into a frown. And those blue eyes, like looking into a never-ending sea reflecting the sky.

Alfred from Corrinia was in his bedroom, exactly how he had imagined him.

Except for the frowning.

"Answer me!" he demanded and, with one firm pull, he unsheathed his sword, the metal scraping. In a single stroke, he had the weapon pointed at Arthur who stared at the man in his room, not quite able to believe what he was seeing.

"I..." Arthur managed.

"You?" snapped Alfred, moving forward, his eyebrows furrowing further in his anger. "What did you do?!"

"I..." Arthur glanced at his bed. "I must just be dreaming..."

He felt the point of the sword press against his neck. A small prick of pain signalled to him that, no, he was definitely awake. "What nonsense do you spout?" Alfred asked in a low growl.

"Ah, no!" exclaimed Arthur, holding his hands up. "I didn't do anything! I have as much of an idea as to how you got here as you do!"

"Then who are you? Where am I?" Alfred hesitated. "And what are you wearing?"

Arthur folded his arms. "You're in my room. These are my _pyjamas_!" He gestured at the matching green set, affronted that he seemed to be amused at his attire. "And..." Briefly, Arthur wondered if he should introduce himself. After all, he may _look_ like Alfred – he had a sword, as well, which, Arthur could see, was dubbed Libby as it was in the books – but that did not mean he _was_ Alfred. His brain had finally caught up with the situation and helpfully told him that there was a high chance that this person was merely an intruder. A good actor with a fine costume, but an intruder nonetheless. Finally, he came to a decision. "I'm Arthur Kirkland. Who are you?"

"I am Alfred, son of Faustius. I come from Corrinia. Perchance, am I still _in_ Corrinia."

Shaking his head, Arthur explained, "You happen to be in Knight's Hill in London-"

"Oh, are you a knight, too?" asked Alfred, excitedly, lowering his sword.

Relaxing a bit, Arthur shook his head. "No-"

"Ah, then, may I speak to a fellow knight, then?"

"You don't understan-" began Arthur.

"Yes, I do. You are the knight's squire. Please, I must speak with him if I am to return to whence I came."

"Look, you idiot!" exclaimed Arthur. "There are no _knights_ here! It's just a name."

"Oh, terribly sorry, sir," said Alfred, cheerfully. "I did not offend thee, did I?"

"What? Oh, no. But, Alfred..." Arthur gazed at him again. Was this the real Alfred? Was it a fan? He bit his lip for a moment and decided to push forward. "You're not in Corrinia any more. It doesn't exist, for one-"

"Huh?" said Alfred, frowning again. "Of course it exists – that's where I come from."

"If this is a joke, it's really gone too far."

"Joke? Why would I jest about something like this?" asked Alfred, looking a little hurt.

 _So, he's either a good actor or undoubtedly insane. Or a fictional character has come to life in my bedroom._ Arthur wasn't sure which one he was hoping for. He sighed, shook his head and headed to the bookcase where he pulled out the first book. "Look," he said, pointing to the cover. On it was a drawing, a likeness to Alfred, though the real thing was much better. If that was what it was.

Sheathing his sword, Alfred took the proffered book and flicked it open, scanning the pages. "Woah, amazing!" cried Alfred once he had turned several pages. "You are a bard? And you can write?"

"No- Well, I mean- Of course, I can write!"

"You must have had an excellent education. Why are you wasting it on writing down my adventures?"

"I- That's not- I didn't write it! Look at the front. See that name there?" He pointed. " _He's_ the author. And he made it up."

"Made it up? Are you sure he is not a seer?"

Arthur decided to change tactics. "Why are you in my flat?"

"Your what?"

"My flat. My abode. My home."

"Oh, well, I dunno," said Alfred, looking a little sheepish. "I mean, Francis and I had just gone to sleep after saving Sakura once again. Well, I did – not so sure about Francis. He may have gone off to find women. Or..." Alfred's gaze suddenly turned wary. "Or, er, went to find something to eat."

"How did you save her this time?" asked Arthur, wondering when in Alfred's timeline he had been ripped from.

"The dreaded warlock let forth another beast," cried Alfred, clearly eager to tell the story. "This time it was a gigantic wolf! But, no matter how many times we struck it, the thing would not fall. Eventually, we learned of the legend of massive wolves which were once men and that the legends dictated that silver hurt it. So we made a solid, silver arrow. I managed to pierce its heart and it died, its body reverting to that of a mere man. We managed to save Sakura and take the man back to his grieving family." Alfred's excited expression morphed into one of distaste. "That damned warlock is going too far."

This was not an answer Arthur had been expecting. A werewolf? There had never been werewolves in Corrinia. Was this a fan's story or was this all real and it hadn't been written yet? "And then you woke up here?"

"Oh, no! I got up to get some food-"

"With Francis?" asked Arthur, smirking, knowing full well Francis had had no intention of eating.

"Er, no..." said Alfred, slowly. "Anyway, I was just sneaking into the kitchen when I tripped over something, I fell, and I think I hit my head."

"Hm," said Arthur.

"So maybe this is just a dream!" cried Alfred. "I just need to wake up."

"No, this is real. Very, very real," sighed Arthur, running a hand through his hair. "You're most certainly here."

"That's what dream you would say, though," protested Alfred.

"Well, why don't you try stabbing yourself," grumbled Arthur, placing his fingers against the cut on his neck. It was probably going to stain his pyjamas. What a bother!

"Ah, that's a good idea, actually," said Alfred and unsheathed his sword.

"No, wait-!" cried Arthur but he was too late. Instead, he watched in horror as Alfred drew the sword against his palm. He heard the knight take a sharp breath as a line of red formed. All doubts of who he was vanished – no-one would be that dedicated to the role that they would cut themselves. Hurriedly, he rushed forward. "Oh, you idiot! Why would you hurt yourself like that?"

"Well, I am certainly not dreaming," commented Alfred with a strained smile. He allowed Arthur to inspect his hand.

"Dammit. I need to go get the first aid kit. Wait here and don't touch anything," commanded Arthur. Alfred stared down at him as Arthur waited for him to protest or say something. Instead, he just gazed at him, their eyes locked. Then Arthur managed to rouse himself and hurried away. "I mean it!" he added as he left the room.

He hurried into the bathroom and pulled the box of bandages and plasters from the cabinet above the sink. Before he returned, however, he quickly checked the other rooms, wondering where Kiku was. A note on the kitchen table informed him that his flatmate had left to go to an exhibition with his friends. Slightly hurt that he had been left out, Arthur hurried back to his charge.

Upon re-entering the room, he found Alfred sitting awkwardly on his bed, staring in surprise at it. When Arthur came in, he looked up, eyes wide, and said, "Your bed is so soft."

Arthur snorted and sat down beside him, setting the box to the side and searching it for the necessary supplies. "I bet those beds you sleep on in Sakura's palace are much more comfortable."

"Oh, they are," agreed Alfred, causing Arthur to pause and glance up. The knight was smiling and it was rather dazzling. "I just think these are softer than any bed I have slept on in inns and the like."

"Ah," said Arthur, as if he understood. He doubted it was any more comfortable than them. "Give me your hand." Alfred obeyed immediately. "Honestly, you only needed to pinch yourself, you know." Carefully, Arthur dipped a cotton bud into some alcohol. "This is going to sting," he warned Alfred, glancing up at him.

"Really?" asked the knight, tilting his head and smiling at Arthur.

Blushing a little, Arthur went back to his task, cleaning out the wound as best he could. Alfred hissed in pain, his hand twitching slightly, but Arthur gripped it tighter to keep it still. After he had finished, he discarded the used cotton bud and pulled out a bandage which he carefully wrapped around the hand. Once he had tied it off, he tidied up and left to put the box back where it was supposed to be.

When he returned, he found Alfred perusing his bookcase. "See anything you like?" he asked, automatically.

"These are all... fiction?" asked Alfred, frowning at the nine books of the series he came from.

"Yes," said Arthur, walking over to him and looking at them, too.

"So I should not be in this world?"

"No, probably not," sighed Arthur, longingly.

"Then, could you, perhaps, help me get home?" asked Alfred, turning to Arthur. He turned on his puppy dog stare which worked on most people in the books. Arthur had told himself he would never fall for it. But now, being subjected to it, he felt his resistance crumble. At that moment, he knew he would agree to do anything. (Though he had fully intended to help Alfred as much as possible, anyway, so perhaps it wouldn't work when he was adamant about not doing something.)

"Of course," Arthur responded, nodding quickly. "But..." He hesitated and stared at the books. "How on Earth will we do that?"

Suddenly, Alfred laughed. Arthur blinked up at him in surprise. "'How on Earth', huh? That sounds rather strange."

For a brief moment, Arthur couldn't work out what he meant. Then he remembered that they said 'What in Corrinia' in the books. "Oh, yes. That's where you are. London, the capital of England, part of Europe, on Earth."

"A capital city!" cried Alfred. "There must be all sorts of sights and sounds here!"

"I suppose..." said Arthur, slowly, wondering where this was going.

"Would you be willing to show me around? I would love to see where you live!" Alfred grinned at him.

Arthur considered this. Should he really be taking a _real_ fictional character around London? But where was the harm? And he couldn't think of anything else to do. After all, how would he get Alfred back into the book? Maybe it would be like other stories and, after achieving a particular goal, he'd be allowed back.

"Well, okay, but I need to get dressed first."

"Ah," said Alfred, eyeing Arthur. "All right."

A pause. "You need to leave the room," insisted Arthur. "Go to the living room- the room with all the seats," he added when he noticed Alfred's puzzled expression. "I'll be right along."

* * *

Once Arthur had slipped on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, he returned to the living room, only to realise that he couldn't walk around with Alfred. He was wearing armour, after all. And he also seemed to be captivated by the TV which he must have managed to turn on. A cartoon was showing and his eyes were wide with wonder. He looked like a child.

"Alfred," he said, attracting the knight's attention. His face was alight with joy and he beamed at Arthur, causing the Londoner's heart to flutter. "Er, could you maybe remove your armour?"

At this, Alfred frowned. "But I need to wear it – to protect me."

"I know that but you're not going to be in any fights here. At least, I hope not. Anyway, no-one else wears armour. It would be dishonourable to hold the advantage in a fight, would it not?" Arthur hoped the last statement would be enough to convince him to take it off.

"If you say it is so, it is so," declared Alfred and stood to untie all his protection.

"Would you, er, like some help?" asked Arthur, a little hesitant.

"Ah, if you would be so kind," replied Alfred, struggling with his chestplate.

The Englishman moved forward. The armour was soon removed, mainly because of Arthur's quick and deft fingers. When they were finished, Arthur realised how close they were and was about to step backwards but Alfred gripped his arm, stopping him. He gazed up into those intense eyes and felt his breath leave him.

"Thank you," said Alfred, very sincerely. "You are a good friend and I am honoured to have met you."

"Ah, well, yes, thank you. Um, you're welcome," said Arthur, feeling his cheeks heating up. Quickly, he turned his head. "But you said you want to go out..." he murmured.

"Yes!" cried the character. "Shall we go?!" He grinned at Arthur.

His host took in his dark red shirt and brown trousers. Now that he thought about it, his clothes looked rather odd, like something from a movie or from long ago. Would it be safe to go out like that? Arthur shrugged to himself. "Yes, let's," he said, moving towards the front door.

* * *

Arthur decided to take Alfred to the Crystal Palace, since it was fairly close by. Besides, there was a Tube station there and he could take him to Westminster and Buckingham Palace if he wanted to go. And the London Eye, Arthur thought. He considered London Dungeon and London Tower, briefly, but decided against it – he remembered Alfred's fear of ghosts from the fourth book and taking him to those spooky places would no doubt scare the living daylights out of him.

The man seemed fascinated by the glass palace. He dragged Arthur through the park and around the interior, chattering excitedly about this and that. Occasionally, he would ask about something or other and Arthur would willingly provide the answers. Sometimes, he was forced to prattle on at length about different things, such as the wars and guns and other things Alfred had never heard of, explaining how they worked. When this happened, he wondered if Alfred was bored because the poor knight would gaze blankly at him until Arthur called his name. Then he would shake himself and grin sheepishly before darting off to look at something else.

Finally, Arthur managed to drag him away, taking him to the Crystal Palace Tube station. Alfred seemed fascinated by the various forms of transport London offered and, several times, Arthur had to pull him back from the road. The Tube befuddled him but, once Arthur had shown him how everything worked (and made sure he didn't talk to any unsavoury characters), he seemed ecstatic to be allowed on the train.

They took the Overground line to Canada Water where they had to disembark and change to the Jubilee line to get to Westminster. When they reached their destination, Arthur explained about Westminster Abbey being an iconic sight in London. Alfred was very interested and continued to quiz Arthur as he led him along to Buckingham Palace.

In front of the Palace, Arthur explained about the monarchy and the government. He stopped, midway through an explanation of the Union of Parliament when he noticed that Alfred was no longer paying attention and was, instead, staring at the guards. Arthur had a foreboding that the ensuing conversation would not go well but decided to attempt to get Alfred's attention again.

"Are you interested in the guards?" he asked.

Alfred looked at him and nodded. "Why in Corrinia- Sorry. Why _on Earth_ are they wearing those funny hats?"

"That's their official uniform," explained Arthur. "It's tradition for them to wear it."

"But what if they get attacked?"

Arthur snorted in derision. "They're not going to be attacked," he said, dismissively.

"Why would they not be?" asked Alfred in confusion. "This palace is in the middle of a city. Anyone could have ill intent. They should be wearing helmets. And I doubt those funny weapons would be any good. They should have swords."

"What, and get gunned down?" said Arthur with a roll of his eyes and a laugh. "Alfred, it's very different here. Guns are the better weapons. It only stands to reason-"

"Well, they should have swords as well," huffed Alfred. "It would be _traditional_ , yes?"

With a sigh, Arthur shook his head. "Yes, yes. I think they actually wear them on their belts, out of sight. But they won't use them. And they're not going to change for you-"

"We will just see about that!" exclaimed Alfred and hurried across the road.

"Ah, wait!" cried Arthur, grabbing him just before he stepped off the pavement. "You need to pay more attention!" he added as a taxi zoomed by. "Besides, you should leave them alone. There are more things to see, you know."

But Alfred seemed to be determined and, after checking that there was nothing about to hit him, he bounded across the road, leaving Arthur behind. The Brit sighed and fretted as he waited for cars to pass so he could hurry across, too.

When he finally arrived, he found Alfred waving his hand in front of the guard's face. "Just like any other tourist," Arthur sighed as he stepped up to him. "Alfred, stop it. Come along now. Leave the poor-"

"How can they not react at all? I could be about to attack-"

"Alfred!" exclaimed Arthur. "They're trained to do that. Now _come on_ before you get us both in trouble!"

The knight turned astonished eyes to his. Wonder shone on his face and he looked utterly bewildered at Arthur's outburst. He reminded Arthur somewhat of his younger brother. Peter was often excited by something and would stare at him, surprised, whenever Arthur yelled at him. "But-" Alfred began.

"No 'buts'," said Arthur. He sighed. "Come on. There's something I should show you. Do you remember that giant wheel I told you about at Westminster?"

* * *

Alfred was pressed against the window, a grin on his face. The children in the capsule were confused at his behaviour and their parents were keeping them well away. This was good, though, as Arthur didn't want them overhearing Alfred's exclamations of surprise, wonder and glee. He, for one, couldn't decide whether this side of Alfred was adorable or exasperating.

"Arthur, Arthur, look!" exclaimed Alfred, suddenly, jolting Arthur out of his thoughts. The knight grabbed Arthur's arm and dragged him to the other side of the capsule. "Look! I can see that abbey from here!"

"Ah, yes," said Arthur, with a small smile. "You can see a lot of things from here, you know."

"What's that?" asked the other, pointing downwards. Arthur peered where he pointed. "Those banners. What are they for?"

"Oh, they're to advertise for the film museum. It's just along the way," explained Arthur.

"Film?"

"Uh..." Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to get into the complexities of film-making. He knew some of the processes from watching the extras you could get on DVDs but explaining it to someone who barely understood electricity was going to be a pain. "It's... a form of entertainment," he decided on saying, rather hesitantly.

"Amazing! Can we go see?"

"Eh?" said Arthur. He hadn't expected Alfred to be interested with that vague explanation. "Well, I suppose."

Alfred cheered and threw an arm around Arthur's shoulders. "You're the best, my dear man!"

Blinking, Arthur tried not to make eye contact with an older couple who were nearby. He blushed horribly, however, when he saw the man's raised eyebrows and the woman's knowing smile. Wondering how much longer it would be before they got off the Eye, Arthur turned away from them.

* * *

After the film museum, wherein Alfred was captivated by the contents, Arthur took Alfred to an Italian restaurant. The character was amazed at the food and gobbled it up quickly. Arthur flinched when he tried to speak through mouthfuls.

Surprisingly, the conversation went well. Arthur discussed his education and his dreams as well as his recent job acquisition. Alfred retold the stories Arthur already knew but with a little more detail and his own unique style of story-telling. (At least, it was unique to Alfred as he would say things like " _you_ know!" and "of course, you already know what they are!" despite him describing trivial things that hadn't been detailed in the books.)

When they emerged from the restaurant the sun had set and Alfred was busy marvelling at the street lights. Arthur chuckled at his enthusiasm and had to catch up with him when he ran off. However, his good mood disappeared when he caught up to him upon the fifth time this happened and found him staring into an alleyway.

"What are you doing?" hissed Arthur.

"There is a damsel in distress!" Alfred breathed, pointing. Sure enough, a young woman, presumably naïve enough to take a shortcut through said alley, was being accosted by a couple of men. She did, indeed, appear distressed, her head bowed as she tried to skirt round the obstruction. The two men, however, merely stepped in front of her and spoke quietly to her, safe in the knowledge that no-one else in their right mind would ever walk into an alleyway.

"Oh, Christ," muttered Arthur. "I'll call the police."

"Police?"

"Er, like... the guards," explained Arthur, distractedly, as he pulled out his phone.

"Yes. You do that and stay out of the way," said Alfred. And then, to Arthur's dismay, he darted into the alley.

"Wai-!" Arthur began but slapped a hand over his mouth. He didn't want to alert the men to Alfred's presence.

"Excuse me, gentlemen!" cried Alfred. The two thugs looked round, their eyes narrowing.

"What do _you_ want?" snapped one of them.

"Well, I cannot help but notice how this young lady is a little upset at your presence. If you would kindly let her go, there will be no need for violence."

The men looked at each other and, while they were distracted, the girl rushed off. Arthur stayed at the mouth of the alley and bit his lip, hoping Alfred would come back now that she was gone.

No such luck.

"What'd you just say to us?" snarled the second man, straightening his cap.

"It is not very nice to accost a young lady. You should court her instead," replied Alfred, oblivious to the danger.

At that point, the first man stalked up to Alfred. The knight watched him warily, trying to keep them both in sight. However, the man who had moved spoke, attracting Alfred's undivided attention. "Are you tryin' somethin', mate?"

"Trying to do what?" asked the confused Alfred.

Meanwhile, Arthur watched in horror as the other man, now behind Alfred, pulled out a pocket knife and flicked it open. His eyes widening, Arthur cried out. "Alfred!"

Sensing the danger, Alfred managed to turn – only to get a knife in the gut. He gasped and grunted, doubling over on himself. The two men, now noticing they had an audience, with more people hesitating as they surveyed the distressed Arthur, turned and fled along the alley, following the steps the girl had already taken. With the threat gone, Arthur hurried in and caught Alfred as he collapsed in on himself.

"Oh, my God! Alfred!" gasped Arthur as he fell to his knees beside him – he wasn't strong enough to hold them both up. "Alfred!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't go into details for their day because I feel it'd take too long. Especially with all the explanations Arthur would have to do. Sorry if you wanted more. 
> 
> Also, originally, Alfred was going to speak with a combination of slang ("I dunno") and ye olde sort of speaking but I changed it later. But I can't be bothered changing it all. I suppose it could be part of the magic that got him there that he began speaking more like an American. Or something. The author is American.
> 
> When I was reading this over on my computer, I noticed a couple of mistakes but wasn't sure if I had changed it on ff.net and not on my document (something I do a lot) and I never bothered checking. And now I can't remember what they were... Something about an apostrophe...


	3. This is my Favourite Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also going to apologise for this chapter in advance. This is more of a transition chapter than anything else and really boring. As such, it's totally crap.
> 
> The title is taken from the first sentence in The Princess Bride.

The next hour or so was a blur for Arthur. He had been rather panicked, unable to think straight, and would eternally be grateful to the lovely woman who approached him to tell him she was calling an ambulance. While they waited, Arthur tried to rouse Alfred as he pressed his hands to the wound. That had been something he read in a book and he hoped that it would help – it had been a fictional book, after all. Alfred never woke, though, his chest the only part of him moving with each breath. When the ambulance finally arrived, the paramedics took over. They allowed Arthur to ride with them, asking for Alfred's name.

"Alfred," Arthur had told them, automatically. However, when he was prodded for a surname, he had realised that there was no way he could tell them that he actually came from a book. "Alfred Ford," he had found himself uttering, a little shakily. He hoped there was no-one with the same name in the world who would be inconvenienced by his lie.

St. Thomas' Hospital was the establishment they were taken to, since they were rather close by. The London Eye towered behind it and Arthur's stomach dropped as he thought of Alfred's excitement at being so high up. Alfred was rushed inside and Arthur was asked to wait in the hallway. He sat and wrung his hands; he paced up and down; he sat and bit his lip so hard he bled. What was he supposed to do if Alfred died? Would he magically be transported back to Corinnia and found dead in Sakura's palace?

"Please, please, please," was what he was saying when a doctor appeared. Arthur leapt up, his eyes wild as he tried to question the doctor but unable to speak.

"He'll live, don't worry," came the answer.

Arthur had never felt so relieved in all his life. He had to take several deep breaths before he could focus on anything the doctor was trying to tell him. "Thank you."

"Just doing my job, sir. He's quite healthy, considering. Should be back on his feet in no time."

"May I see him?" asked Arthur.

"I'm afraid he's resting and he'll probably be out until tomorrow morning. You should go home and get some sleep, too – you look like you need a good cup of tea and some sleep."

This didn't sit well with Arthur. "I'd rather be by his side, if you don't mind. He's given me quite the scare."

The doctor sighed. "Well, I must warn you – it is likely the police will arrive soon to question you. Other than that, after you've spoken to Mr. Ford, I must insist you go home to rest. You can come back during the visiting hours."

Nodding, Arthur took a step towards the door. "Thank you. Thank you, so much." With that being said, Arthur hurried inside, eager to get to Alfred. The room was the standard layout popular on TV shows. Alfred lay on a bed, straight as an arrow, his face relaxed. He wasn't smiling and that made Arthur rather uncomfortable. Beside him was a heart monitor, beeping regularly. An IV drip was attached to him. On the other side of the bed was a bedside cabinet. Pushed out of the way was an armchair which Arthur immediately pulled over so he could sit by Alfred's side, holding his hand.

"Is he important to you?" asked a voice which made Arthur jump. Turning, he saw a smiling nurse, her cropped blonde hair framing her face. She had kind eyes so Arthur nodded. "Is he your brother?"

"Ah, no. Just a friend, really." He looked back at the knight.

"Oh, I see," said the girl in a knowing tone. Arthur blinked and turned but, before he could deny her suspicions, she continued. "I'll leave you two alone. Call if you need anything."

Arthur dumbly nodded before turning to look down at Alfred once more. When he was sure he was alone, he sighed. "You idiot. I told you not to. Honestly, you almost gave me a heart attack. If I drop dead from stress it's _your_ fault. What am I doing?" He ran his free hand through his hair. "I'm scolding you when you can't hear me. Aren't I silly? But this is just a warm-up. When you wake up, I'm going to rip you a new one. And then I'll- Oh, who am I kidding? Just..." Sighing, Arthur shook his head and made himself more comfortable – no doubt this would be a long wait.

* * *

An hour later, the police turned up. Arthur had been alone since the nurse left and was surprised when there was a knock on the door. Looking up, he watched as the door opened and two men walked in. They both wore suits and long coats, though these were unbuttoned. The taller of the two had dark red hair and the smaller had mousy brown hair.

"Mr. Kirkland?" asked the redhead. He had a Scottish accent, Arthur noted.

"Yes?" Arthur didn't remember giving his name but, with his shock earlier, he supposed that he must have done so.

"I am DI Munro and this is DS Llewellyn," said the man, flashing his ID as they came closer.

"Oh, um, hello."

"We're here about the attack," said Llewellyn who sounded Welsh (and, considering the name, probably was).

"Right. What do you want to know?" Arthur turned to give them his full attention, slipping his hand away from Alfred's and hoping they didn't see. He noticed Munro glancing in that direction and cursed himself for making it more obvious than it had been.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Llewellyn asked.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur nodded. "We were walking past an- Well, wait. We were walking to the Tube but..." He trailed off – how could he explain how Alfred was so enthralled with street lights that he had been running between each one. "He's never been in London before. We... We met online, you see, and got friendly. He's here for a holiday and he's staying with me. But he was rushing ahead and came to the alley. I don't know why but he stopped and looked in. When I caught up to him, he was staring at these blokes cornering a girl. She looked quite distressed so... This idiot went in and confronted them. I didn't know what to do so I just... stayed at the mouth of the alley. The girl ran off when Alfred distracted them and they rounded on him. He tried to keep them both in sight but one circled 'round and..." Arthur trailed off.

"Would you be able to recognise them?" asked Munro.

"Um... No. I didn't see them clearly and, well, it was dark."

"Anything else? Did you hear them say any names?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, nothing."

Both of the detectives hummed and nodded. It looked as though they had come across this kind of attack before – and it was no wonder, if they were working in London. Finally, they put their things away. "Well, Mr. Kirkland," said Munro. "Thank you for your time. We will be in touch if there is anything else we need to ask you and we will be back to talk to Mr. Ford once he's awake. Goodbye."

Nodding to them in acknowledgement, Arthur watched them go. He breathed a sigh of relief once the door closed and went back to watching over Alfred.

* * *

Arthur didn't remember laying his head down on the bed beside Alfred but that was certainly what he was doing when he felt someone shaking his shoulder. With a yawn, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching the kinks from his back. When he opened his eyes, it was to find a bright smile looking back at him.

"Alfred!" he cried, a relieved smile flitting onto his face. Then he scowled at him. "What on Earth were you thinking?! You didn't have your armour on!"

"I apologise," said Alfred, the smile not leaving his face. "Are you all right?"

"What? Of course I am."

The knight didn't look convinced but swiftly moved on. "Where are we?"

"We're in a hospital. Um, it's kind of like a place where a lot of Healers are," Arthur explained when Alfred shot him a confused look. "You'll be stuck in here till you're well enough to go."

"Nonsense. I can-"

"No!" cried Arthur as Alfred tried to sit up. "Don't. You'll undo all their work. Just... rest. You need it."

Staring at him, the knight looked as though he was contemplating something. Then he smiled – not one of his usual smiles, but one smaller and fond. "You need some, too."

"I... Well, I suppose..."

"Return home and rest. Come to me in the morning."

"Well..."

"I will be in capable hands, will I not?"

Arthur sighed, knowing he was correct. "Fine. But don't mention Corrinia – they'll think you've been hit on the head. Say that you come from... New York. That you're here on holiday and staying with me. You've got no family to call at the moment."

"Why?" asked Alfred, looking genuinely confused.

"Just... They won't understand, okay? There might be some men who'll come to ask questions about what happened. Answer them honestly, all right? I'll be back in the morning."

Yawning, Alfred nodded. "I think I shall rest more, as well."

Arthur nodded, unable to stifle his own yawn. "I'll go find a nurse and then I'll be gone, okay?"

"Goodnight, fair one."

"Goodnight," Arthur answered, not registering what Alfred had said until he was in the corridor. Then he had to find a nurse accompanied by a raging blush.

* * *

In the morning, Arthur returned with a rucksack. Alfred looked interested in it and waited patiently for Arthur to tell him. Indeed, the Englishman sat down and began to pull out books, each one wrapped and kept closed with a stretched elastic band. "I brought the Corrinia Saga," he told Alfred, rubbing at tired eyes. He had been unable to sleep when he had gotten to his empty home then, after he had finally drifted off, strange dreams flitted through his mind. When he had awoken, still tired, he had stumbled around the flat, once again missing Kiku completely. As he stared at the calendar they had pinned up in the kitchen, he had realised that he couldn't be with Alfred through the day. So he decided that he would have to take something for Alfred to occupy his time with.

Alfred picked up the first one Arthur had set down, unwrapping it. "The ones you spoke of before?"

Nodding, Arthur continued unloading all ten books. "It'll give you something to do. I have to go to work." It was his last day at the bookshop: they hadn't scheduled him in for any more for the rest of the week and he didn't start his new job until next Monday. Luckily, his boss at the bookshop was understanding when Arthur called up to explain that he had to visit someone in the hospital before he made it to the premises.

"Work?" asked Alfred, looking at Arthur.

"Yes. It's what I do to get money," Arthur replied, rather sardonically.

"And I must stay here while you are gone?"

"Apparently. They seem to want you to stay here for another few hours to make sure the stitches don't open up or you don't have any internal bleeding. Or something."

"Ah, I see. Well, I will obey the wise Healers."

"Right," Arthur said, raising his eyebrow at Alfred. "I'd best get going. Just remember: no talking about how you come from Corrinia."

"I know," said Alfred, smiling cheerily.

"Well. Goodbye, for now."

"Farewell, Arthur."

With that, Arthur walked out of the room and turned down the corridor. As he dodged nurses and doctors, he glanced up and noticed the two detectives from the day before. They were coming towards him and he raised a hand in greeting. Nodding back, they paused as they reached him.

"He's awake?" asked Llewellyn.

"Yes. I think he may be reading." Still a little concerned that Alfred would say something stupid about Corrinia, he added. "Go easy on him, eh? I think he's still a bit shocked. In shock, I mean, or whatever the term is."

Munro raised an eyebrow. "We'll make sure not to upset him further."

Arthur nodded. "Thank you. I have to go, though. Have a good day." He hurried away – Munro's expression had made him nervous.

* * *

He returned that evening, feeling rather tired. With his mind on Alfred, he had been taking longer to complete his tasks than normal. It had made him feel more and more lethargic as time wore on. Finally, he made it to Alfred's bedside. The knight was just as happy as when he had left him.

"They gave me food," he told Arthur, cheerfully. "These Healers are extremely nice."

"Yes..." said Arthur, slowly. He shook his head slightly to stop the vicious thoughts of ' _he really is an idiot_ '. "The detectives, Munro and Llewellyn, were they okay?"

"Oh, yes. They were very understanding. And they even said they would catch the men responsible."

"I doubt that," Arthur muttered under his breath. He pulled the chair over as he spoke, effectively preventing Alfred from hearing him. "Anyway, I have time to wait with you now. Did they say when they're letting you go?"

"Tomorrow – they wish to keep me here overnight."

"Ah, okay. I can take you home tomorrow." Realising what he had said and to whom, Arthur rushed to clarify. "I mean, back to where you came out. Of the books." He stopped himself with a groan and covered his face with his hands.

"The books! They are very informative," declared Alfred. Arthur looked up and saw him holding one aloft. "I have been reading this one and it is exactly as it happened to me."

"It _is_ a book about you."

Alfred nodded. Then he paused for a moment, obviously thinking. Arthur let him, wondering what the problem was. "Arthur..." he finally said. "Could you read them to me?"

"What?!"

"I am sure you would make an amazing bard," Alfred explained with a large smile.

Sighing, Arthur rolled his eyes and took the book from him. "Where did you get to?" he asked. Alfred leaned forward and, suddenly, he was a lot closer than Arthur was comfortable with. _His eyes are a much brighter blue from this distance..._ When Alfred tapped the book, Arthur jolted in surprise but covered it up by settling properly in the chair. "O-Okay. Right." He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Alfred's amusement. "'Francis!' Alfred cried as the ground crumbled beneath his companion. He threw his arm out, hoping Francis would catch hold...'"

* * *

Three hours later, a nurse popped her head around the door to tell Arthur that the visiting hours were up. He nodded to her to show he understood but continued reading to the end of the page before snapping the book shut. Alfred looked disheartened.

"I was right," he said to Arthur as the latter placed the book on the bedside table. "You would make an _excellent_ bard."

"Well, I can't make a living from that. Not here, at any rate," Arthur said with a chuckle. He turned to push the chair out of the way. "I'll be back in the morning. If they let you out, I'll make sure to-"

"Arthur!" cried Alfred. Arthur spun around to see what was wrong. "Look!"

Staring in shock at the book Alfred was pointing at, Arthur's jaw dropped. The last book in the series was glowing with a green light. Alfred threw back the covers of the bed and stood, looking quite ridiculous in the hospital's gown. He was about to reach out for the book when Arthur grabbed his wrist.

"Wait! It could be dangerous."

"No, it will take me home. I am sure of it."

His hesitation was enough to let Alfred pull away from him. Once more, he moved to touch it but, again, Arthur stopped him, this time gripping his elbow. "Wait."

"What is it?"

"I just... Aren't you going to say goodbye?" asked Arthur, staring at the floor. He wasn't entirely sure how to feel. Sad that he was going, of course: he had gotten quite used to Alfred being with him. Relieved, maybe. Heartbroken? He was being ridiculous, he decided, and looked up to Alfred with a smile.

Alfred wasn't smiling back. His eyes were wide and he was biting his lip. "Arthur..." he said. Arthur suddenly found himself crushed in a hug. Awkwardly, he lifted his arms to Alfred's back as the knight's strong arms held him close. After patting him slightly, Arthur dropped his arms but Alfred still didn't let him go.

"Alfred," he prompted. That was all he needed to say for Alfred to let him go, holding him at arm's length so that Arthur could clearly see his anguish. He couldn't bear it and quickly looked away, back to the book. "Well, go on, the-"

"Come with me," said Alfred.

Eyes widening, Arthur looked up. "What?!"

"Come with me," repeated Alfred, looking perfectly serious. "It's safe – I made it through before, didn't I?"

"Yes, but-"

"Please, Arthur." Alfred was looking at him with such a sad, pleading gaze that Arthur felt guilty for contradicting him, resisting him. "I do not want to leave you just yet, but..."

"There's no telling when you'll be able to go through next," Arthur finished for him. "But I can't leave – I have a life here and-"

"Do you not want to see my adventures first-hand?"

"Well, that _would_ -"

"See? Come with me."

"I..." As he gazed into the depths of Alfred's wide eyes, Arthur could feel his resistance dwindling. "But... Maybe..."

"Maybe?"

Arthur sighed. He could tell he would probably regret what he was about to do but, nevertheless... "All right."

"Great!" exclaimed the suddenly excited knight. Without further ado, he grabbed Arthur's hand. The crushing grip reminded Arthur of how bad an idea this was but, before he could wrench his hand away, Alfred had already slapped his hand on the book. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Alfred even began to say, "Maybe we should open-?"

Then, without warning, Arthur felt something pulling on the arm attached to Alfred. He was pulled forward and down – and then pulled backwards and up by his feet. His stomach twisted and danced: he felt very ill as bright colours – reds and blues and purples and a lot of green – spun past him. Black rushed to meet him and-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> St. Thomas' Hospital is an actual hospital in London. I wasn't quite sure where the two of them were so I just decided they could be near the London Eye. That hospital is literally right beside it. According to Google Maps, anyway.
> 
> Munro and Llewellyn are obviously Scotland and Wales. They weren't going to be in this chapter but then I realised that a) it was going to be a short chapter. b) the police would likely turn up to interrogate both of them, so... Munro totally knows that Arthur's hiding something but he doesn't know what.
> 
> Normally, I wouldn't have added in what Arthur said about the attack but I thought you would like to see him lying. Badly.
> 
> I know this is terribly clichéd, to have a character go into another world in a book or whatever. But, when I was thinking about this ages ago, I thought this would be more fun than traipsing around London. And, also, I don't know London very well so... Besides, if Alfred was to stay in London and adapt to life there, it would be rather like another of my stories. So I decided against that and went with, well...


	4. What is The Use of a Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter comes from the first sentence of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

When Arthur woke, he realised that he was curled up on something cold, hard and flat. He also seemed to be in a lot of pain, as if he had fallen over. Perhaps he had passed out after drinking too much. Again. Hopefully, he was close to his flat.

Resisting the urge to groan, he sat up and rubbed at his face. Odd. He didn't have the usual pounding headache and nausea from doing that. Yawning, he opened his eyes. They widened as they took in his surroundings.

He was in a room made of stone. Tapestries and wall hangings provided decoration and reminded him of Japanese-style paintings. Sun streamed through clean, tall windows illuminating the two beds situated there. Both looked a little bigger than singles but not quite doubles and both were high off the ground, covers draped over them. A black screen decorated with delicately painted pink petals stood in a corner. Beside it was a wash basin, a cloth hanging over the side of it. A bar of soap sat on the small unit beside it. The mirror was full length and could swivel: it stood by the door as if to give the occupants a chance to look over their appearance one last time before exiting. Two packs sat, crumpled, on the ground beside each bed. Two chairs sat beside the beds: one was empty but the other had armour, a sword and a cape messily sitting on it. A pair of boots was nestled underneath it, out of the way.

There was a sudden shuffling noise and a groan as something moved on one of the beds. Hesitantly, Arthur pulled himself to his feet and took a peek. Curled on his side, snuggling under the soft quilt, lay Alfred. His hair was a mess and he was frowning as he tried to go back to sleep. Arthur sighed and shook him slightly as the memories of the past couple of days returned to him.

"Mm, no," whined Alfred. "Go 'way, Franny. You are 'orrible."

"I'm not Francis," Arthur told him, shaking him again.

Alfred seemed to freeze. Then, so suddenly that Arthur jumped back, Alfred surged upwards. "W-Wha-? Oh! Arthur!" Again, there was movement and Arthur found himself in a tight hug.

"L-Let go, you idiot! You're crushing me!"

"Ah. Sorry." Alfred let go and rested back on his heels. He was wearing a faded, white nightshirt, Arthur noticed. Then Alfred frowned, running his eyes up and down Arthur's body. "We are going to have to find better clothes for you."

Arthur looked down at himself. He was wearing a shirt and cotton vest along with a pair of black trousers. His smart, black shoes were a little scuffed from work but he thought he looked acceptable. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" he protested, indignant, hands on his hips.

"Well, no-one in this world wears something like that." Alfred pondered for a moment. "I could give you some of my clothes, if you'd like. Or I can ask Sakura for some..."

"I don't think that's a good idea. That would advertise that I came here without clothes."

For some reason, Alfred blushed at that but nodded. "Yes. Good point." He slipped off the bed (his nightshirt rode up and Arthur had to quickly look away) and made his way to one of the packs. Opening it, Alfred pulled out a plain, white shirt with a v-neck, laces keeping it shut. Next came a pair of rough, brown breeches. Lastly, he pulled out a spare pair of boots.

"Those won't fit me."

"Oh. Yes. We will have to buy you a pair from the city."

Arthur frowned at that. "Is that such a good idea?" he inquired. "Won't people notice?"

"I doubt it. People keep themselves to themselves." He paused and added, "Mostly."

"Right. Well. Excuse me." Arthur went behind the screen and quickly pulled off the clothes he was wearing. Then he tugged on the breeches (which were rather itchy) and pulled on the shirt (which was surprisingly soft in comparison to the trousers). After he had pulled on his shoes again, he emerged from the screen – and yelped in surprise.

Apparently, Alfred had decided to get dressed while Arthur was hidden from view. So far, he had gotten his trousers and boots on – but was in no hurry to put on his shirt. His muscled chest was in full view and Arthur could only gape. He had never imagined Alfred to look so incredibly hot. Well, he had imagined it but it was definitely better in reality, insofar as this was considered reality.

"Oh," said Alfred. "Sorry. I thought I would be finished before you."

"A-Ah?" Arthur stammered, wondering what else to say to that and where to put himself. He was sure the temperature of the room had increased several degrees.

Not seeming to notice, Alfred pulled on a shirt and sat to begin pulling on his boots. It was not a moment too soon as the door was thrown open and a man waltzed in. He had long, blond hair and blue eyes. His jaw was stubbled and his clothes were of fine materials and perfectly arranged on his body. A huge smile was on his face.

"Alfred, mon ami!" the man declared as he approached the knight. That was when Arthur realised who it was: Sir Francis, the knight that had a friendly rivalry with Alfred. Arthur grimaced and hoped he wouldn't spot him. "Have you slept well?"

"Um, yes, I suppose I did," Alfred answered, glancing at Arthur.

Quickly, Arthur shook his head, trying to make Alfred look away. Unfortunately, Francis was quicker and he turned to look at what Alfred was peeking at. Upon seeing Arthur, his eyes widened. Then he chuckled.

"Now, Alfred. This is interesting. You brought someone back to your room?"

"It's not like that!" Arthur exclaimed, immediately knowing what he was getting at.

"He is right. That is not why he is here," Alfred told Francis, frowning at him. "He is a bard."

That took a moment to sink in but, when it did, Arthur said, "What?" at the same time as Francis said, "Quoi?"

Shrugging, Alfred pulled on a boot. "He is a bard," he repeated. "He is going to come with us. Well, with me, anyway."

"Huh," said Francis, looking Arthur over.

"Hm." Arthur hoped that sounded as if he was agreeing.

Francis stepped towards Arthur and bowed low, throwing an arm out and making it look more flamboyant. "Hello, fair bard. My name is Francis. It is a pleasure to meet you." He reached for Arthur's hand, presumably to kiss it, but Arthur held his hands out of reach. "May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"Arthur," he answered, eyeing Francis warily.

"Such a regal name. Are you a prince?"

"Not the last time I checked," Arthur replied, dryly.

"Hey, Francis," Alfred interrupted them. "Is Sakura still around?"

"I do believe so. Why?"

"Oh, I want her to meet Arthur. I expect she will be enamoured with him." Alfred grinned at them.

"Surely she won't." Arthur frowned at them. "She loves the prince she is betrothed to, right?"

The two knights looked at each other. Alfred shrugged. "Yes but she loves to meet new people. She also... has a thing for accents?" He winked at Arthur who frowned in response.

"Francis has more of an accent than I do."

"She has gotten used to mine, ami." He gave Alfred and Arthur a knowing look.

"Hmm." Arthur had the feeling that they were messing with him, somehow. "Well, if we're going, we'd best go, yes?"

"Oui!" Francis declared. "This way."

They exited the room and Arthur took the opportunity to look around. All of the walls were made of stone, thick and impenetrable. Strategically placed hangings broke up the monotony with beautiful floral patterns and landscapes of calming scenery. Antique vases were set upon small, spindly tables. A servant or two hurried by: they looked at Arthur, curious, but went on their way. Wooden doors were passed by – some ajar, others closed, one with a couple of guards standing to either side and glaring at them.

Alfred dropped back to talk to Arthur in a hushed tone. "You are going to meet the king first, likely. There is not much to remember except to bow when we enter and leave. If he invites you to tea, you will have to drink it." The knight grimaced at that.

"I like tea," Arthur assured him. "That won't be a problem."

"Then you are ready to meet him."

At that, Arthur started to panic a little as they stopped before a set of doors: they were red with golden filigree while black paint depicted a dragon. Arthur gulped. It wasn't as if he had tea with the Queen on a regular basis. What was he supposed to say? And, now that he thought about, shouldn't he have a cover story? "Wait-" he managed to say before the knights opened the doors.

There was nothing to do but follow Alfred and Francis inside. The two knights made their way to the middle of the room and bowed. Not looking up, Arthur rushed after them and did the same, almost overdoing it in his haste and toppling over. When they stood again, Arthur firmly kept his gaze to the floor, just in case he would offend someone by looking at the royal.

"It is a beautiful morning, Your Majesty," said Alfred, cheerfully.

"Indeed it is," said the king. His voice was smooth and a little higher pitched than he had expected. The king was not mentioned too much in the books and Arthur had had no idea what to expect.

"We were wondering if we could see Sakura... Sakura-heem? Heema?"

"Sakura-hime," Arthur provided, seeing as he had had to ask Kiku how to say it. The author seemed intent on putting little bits of others' cultures into the fictional land he had created. Though, it wasn't exactly fictional any more...

There was a heavy pause. Arthur couldn't hear anyone breathing. Then the king spoke again. "Who is this? Why is he in my castle?"

"Ah," said Alfred. "This is Arthur. He is our new friend – a bard."

"Really?" Another short silence. "Arthur the Bard," the king said, making Arthur tense. "Raise your head. I wish to look at you."

Hesitantly, Arthur did as he was bid and took the opportunity to look the man over. He had long black hair tied into a ponytail and draped over one shoulder. His dark eyes looked Arthur over. Atop his head was a tall, cream hat – his version of a crown, Arthur knew – and his robes matched it. The sleeves were long enough to hide his hands, something which had been said to unnerve his enemies. It was said that he could defeat his enemy with merely a spoon: such was the legend of King Yao.

Narrowing his eyes, Yao said, "Green eyes."

When nothing else was said, Arthur decided to speak up. "Um. Begging your pardon, sir – Your Majesty – but... Is there something wrong with green eyes?"

Yao stared at him for a minute. "Only figuratively."

"I... see," Arthur mumbled.

"Now," said Yao, turning back to the knights, "you said you wished to see my daughter?"

"Indeed," Francis admitted. "We were wondering how she was faring after the wolf-man incident."

"I shall send for her." Yao nodded to the edge of the room where a servant had been standing. The man scampered away, hurrying out of the room.

In the silence that followed, Arthur took a moment to survey the room. Drapes and curtains were artfully placed to cover the room, giving the plain space colour and decoration. Two dragon tapestries sat at either side of the throne. That itself was not a high backed chair as Arthur had imagined – rather, it looked like something from Ancient Rome. The chair looked like a stool, two stumpy armrests curling up from the cushion. There were two steps onto the dais and a mat to the side of the throne for someone to kneel upon.

Alfred began to fidget, swaying backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. Francis seemed to be well versed in ignoring him but Arthur stared.

More silence. Finally, King Yao snapped. "Can you still not stand still, boy?!"

"Sorry!" Alfred squeaked and ceased his movements.

This time, the silence was strained. It was as though three men were waiting for the fourth to begin being an annoyance again. They didn't need to wait long as Alfred began to shift his weight from one foot to the other. Yao threw his arms up in exasperation but quickly had them folded before his sleeves revealed his hands.

Eventually, they were spared further torment by the appearance of Princess Sakura. She wore pink robes, much like a kimono from Earth. However, it was made with some sort of material which made it swish and float as she walked. Her short dark hair had been bobbed and her dark eyes roved over the guests. When she spotted Arthur, her eyes widened. Arthur stared right back – he had often thought that the description of Sakura could be substituted for Kiku's. In fact, a lot of the time, he was thinking of Kiku with breasts. Now, though, he saw that she was more feminine but Arthur could still see that she could be mistaken for Kiku's sister.

"Good morning, Father. Good morning, everyone," she said, politely bowing. She then settled herself on the mat, kneeling so she faced the room.

"Hello, Sakura," said Alfred with a smile. Yao grunted and he quickly added, "Heema."

"Hime," muttered Arthur.

"Ah, yeah, I mean... heem-ay?"

Arthur sighed in exasperation. Turning to the young woman, he bowed deeply. "Good morning, Your Highness. It is an honour to meet you. I have been told many great things about you."

"You have?" Sakura asked, a smile pulling at her lips. She blinked owlishly at him for a moment and he realised she was looking for an answer.

"Y-Yes. They say you are as beautiful as the flowers in the wind and as clever as a fox. They say you are compassionate and kind-hearted and that you will make a wonderful Queen for-" He broke off, searching his memory for the name of her intended. "For Prince Herakles."

Sakura giggled cutely and Arthur felt his cheeks heating. "Why, thank you, mysterious stranger. What is your name?"

"I am Arthur."

"The Bard," Alfred interjected.

"Ah, a bard. I will wish you well on your journey. No doubt Sir Alfred will provide a lot of interesting stories." She looked between them, seemingly happy with the arrangement.

"Indeed," said Arthur and, for some reason, found himself bowing again.

"Dear princess," Francis said, suddenly. "May we inquire as to your health this fine day?"

"I am fine," Sakura insisted. "There is no need to fret. I shall be fit for the ball next week, my doctor tells me. Will you two be there?"

"Of course!" Alfred exclaimed. "I cannot pass up the chance for free food."

Again, Sakura giggled. "Good. I was hoping that you could dance with Daisy. And Monika will be visiting then, as well, so Francis could dance with her."

"Then who will dance with you, chérie?"

"Arthur could, if he is willing?"

Blinking, Arthur took a moment to respond. "O-Oh! Yes. But... I'm not a noble. Wouldn't it be rather improper to have me dancing with you."

"Father will not mind. Right, my King?" Sakura turned to Yao.

"If you are a friend of Alfred, then I suppose I shall allow it," Yao responded. "Though, if you try anything..."

"I won't!" Arthur was quick to assure him.

"Well, if you are going to attend the ball," said Alfred, "we should go find you something to wear! Shopping trip, Francis!"

"Ah, oui! I shall attend!"

"Now, wait just a-" Arthur began. However, before he could finish protesting, Alfred and Francis had made their way to the doors of the throne room. Arthur looked back up at the Royals: Yao appeared unimpressed and Sakura was hiding her amusement behind her hand. "Ah, er," he said, bowed, and rushed after his companions, cursing them for leaving him behind.

* * *

They exited the castle through towering, crystal doors. A portcullis was the only protection and had been drawn up to allow ease of access. Guards saluted Alfred and Francis as they passed and peered at Arthur as though trying to figure out if they had seen him before. Arthur tried not to look nervous.

Outside was a courtyard covered in wooden planks. Where there were none, flowerbeds resided. They contained rockeries or shrubs or lovely little plants which were in full flower. Several of them, however, connected with a central fountain which pushed water from an urn and let it run down a complicated system which allowed a stream to run off around the side of the castle. To one side sat a large stable; horses could be heard whinnying and stamping their hooves. Beyond the scenery were the large, wooden gates attached the the thick, stone walls. Guards paced upon it in precise steps to a precise rhythm, each step accurately timed. They were dressed in shining armour with pointed helmets and sharp spears. A few of the stationary ones had crossbows.

Francis and Alfred took a path which forced them to hop over the stream. Stepping stones had evidently been placed for exactly that purpose. Arthur followed much more cautiously and had to jog to catch up with them afterwards. When he did, he realised they were arguing about where to go first.

"I tell you, Elizaveta's is the best place to go. Everything is cheap _and_ he can get some sort of armour." Alfred paused. "And a sword, I suppose."

"Nonsense. He needs somewhere with a bit more class than that," Francis protested. "We are attending a ball, not a tournament."

"He still needs protection when he comes with us on an adventure."

Laughing, Francis shook his head. "Bards tend to stay at a distance: he won't be in any danger."

"Regardless, he needs a sword in case he is ambushed."

"Um," said Arthur as they reached the gates. "I don't know how to use a sword. And... would it be _likely_ that I would be attacked if I was alone?"

Alfred nodded. "It depends on the area."

"Ah," said Arthur. What else could he say to that?

After passing through the entranceway, Arthur looked around. A lot of white buildings were clustered around the area before the castle. Each was the size of a small mansion and Arthur stared at them. Walls separated them from the roads but, as they passed, Arthur caught glimpses of carriages and people in fancy clothes. He decided that it must be a residential district, one for the nobles of the city.

The next set of buildings were just as large but had no perimeter. In fact, there were people sitting around on the steps leading up to one of them. It had pillars at its entrance and a word carved into the marble above it: JUSTICE. The court system and what passed for a police station, then.

Next were smaller houses and children playing in the streets. Carts and horses passed by, some of the riders sneering down at the people on foot. A dog ran by, catching Arthur off guard – he almost toppled over. Thankfully, he kept his balance and caught up with his guides once more.

Finally, they reached an open area lined with buildings, signs above the doors. They all seemed to have items on display outside. Stalls had been set up around the fountain in the middle of the cobbled area – it was shaped like an elegant swan about to take flight. There was a lot more noise, people calling on each other to buy whatever they were selling. The smell of food caught Arthur's attention: his stomach rumbled from the lack of a breakfast. Unfortunately, the other two were too busy arguing to notice, it seemed.

Deciding that they would likely be able to find him, Arthur slipped away, stopping at the nearest stall which a scrumptious smell was wafting from. What appeared to be an assortment of dumplings – some fried, others boiled – were laid out with little signs in a language Arthur couldn't read. The numbers beneath, however, obviously indicated the price.

"You buying?" asked the wrinkled old woman behind the stall. Her skin was brown with age and the sun and she peered at him with suspicious, dark eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Arthur, shaking his head. "I have no money. I was just looking to see what you were selling. Awfully sorry for being a bother." He turned to move on but was immediately called back. Confused, he looked at her.

"Here," she said and quickly handed over a paper bag.

"Wha-?"

"Do not tell. Now, go. _Go_." She shooed him away and Arthur hurried off, picking a random direction to move in. He realised he was heading towards the fountain so he waited until he had sat on the edge of it to open the bag and sate his curiosity.

Within it, he found several dumplings. He couldn't understand why she had given them to him without money but the smell was enticing so he was quick to pull one out. Taking a bite, he moaned a little: it was amazing, even more so for his hunger. Around five minutes later, Arthur found himself at the bottom of the bag.

"Oops," he murmured. He had intended to keep a few for Alfred and Francis.

"You look like you enjoyed that," said a voice beside him. Arthur jumped and turned to find Alfred and Francis standing nearby. Alfred looked relieved and Francis seemed amused.

"Um. Yeah. I was hungry," Arthur admitted.

"I hope you did not steal that," Alfred said, frowning at him.

"Of course not!" protested Arthur, scowling.

"Well, let us not dwell on this. Come, we must go to Elizaveta's."

Rising, Arthur folded the bag and shoved it into a pocket for disposal later. Then again, there had never been anything in the books about waste disposal methods so he wasn't sure what he would be doing with it. Alfred and Francis moved off and Arthur followed them to a shop in the corner of the square. Swords hung on a rack in front of one window. On the other side of the door were a variety of dresses.

They entered and a woman with long, flowing, brown hair glanced up from where she stood at the counter. A pink flower was tucked behind her ear which did little to keep her hair from falling in front of her face. She wore a dirty white shirt and a pair of grey dungarees. Grinning, she raised a hand in welcome. "Alfred! Francis! And... oh! Is this a new one to add to your travelling band?"

"Indeed it is. This is Arthur," Alfred said, pulling Arthur forward and into the limited lighting within the shop. It was actually more of a blacksmith's forge than a shop; a huge fire at the far end of the room provided the most light. An anvil sat before it upon which rested tools for beating the metal into shape. Swords, spears and arrow heads were prominent throughout the store but, in another corner, was a loom and sewing equipment. Dresses and rather elegant suits hung from a railing separated from the smoke of the forge by a glass wall.

The woman herself had only been in a few of the Corrinia books. Apparently, she felt her clothes rivalled that of someone called Roderich – someone to only be mentioned. They were rather beautiful but also practical. The swords and armour were her true calling but she sometimes enjoyed the 'peace of making clothes' compared to the smithing work. And, every time she appeared, she would make strange comments to Alfred, as if she knew one of his secrets.

"Oho! He is a handsome one!"

"Ah. Thank you," said Arthur, politely, eyeing her strong arms. He had no doubt that she could take him out with one blow.

"What are you here for today? More armour? A new sword?" Elizaveta seemed eager to please and Arthur relaxed.

"We need to find Arthur a weapon or two. He is our bard on our next journey. And he may need armour." Alfred glanced at him and Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "Perhaps something light to allow him to run if needs be. Some additional clothes would also be quite helpful."

"Splendid!" cried Elizaveta, excitedly. She clapped her hands together and came around the counter. "Let me just measure you, then. Come this way."

Arthur followed her to the corner where she had left her sewing and weaving things. Without any hesitation or shame, Elizaveta grabbed a measuring tape and began to measure everything. A few times she got a little too close to certain areas for Arthur's comfort but he assured himself that it was necessary. As she worked, she wrote down the measurements on a piece of already used parchment. Her writing was hardly better than a scribble and Arthur couldn't understand it.

"So," she said as she measured Arthur's head (even though he didn't recall a helmet or hat being part of the request), "what has made you want to follow these two on their journeys."

Quickly, Arthur tried to think of a suitable reason which wasn't that he had been pulled to Corrinia from another world by a process he wasn't sure he quite understood. He was sure that would get him labelled as crazy. "Oh, I've heard a lot about Sir Alfred and I was hoping I would meet him one day. When I did and told him all I knew, he invited me along on an adventure for a more accurate story."

"Ooh, that sounds exciting!" said Elizaveta. "I would love to join Alfred on his journeys but..." She pouted a little as she dropped the measuring tape onto the table. "My business would take a hit if I went anywhere."

"Surely you could take a holiday?" Arthur suggested. "Maybe for a week or so. You could leave a note saying that you're leaving to go find out about new techniques for your swords or-"

"I cannot," Elizaveta said, determination burning in her eyes. "I must beat Roderich at his own game. Did you know that he said my clothes were slipshod and had 'no finesse'?" Huffing, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Ha! I will show him that I can do just as well as he can."

Curious, Arthur asked, "Er. Is there a reason for this rivalry?"

At that, Elizaveta paused and thought. "No. Not really. Just a bit of fun, really." She grinned at him before heading off to the room with clothes. "You are in luck today, my friend! I made several clothes for a young man staying in town for a few days. He only took a few and I kept the rest, just in case, and they are the perfect fit for you."

"Wow. That's... horribly coincidental," Arthur said, frowning. He had thought being in Corrinia would be more realistic but, apparently, it was just as story-like as the books. Convenient tools lying around to assist the heroes escaping a prison, overhearing an evil plot... Arthur wondered if he could use that to his advantage.

"Is it not so?" Elizaveta agreed, pulling out a few shirts and breeches. "I do not have a changing room as Roderich's shop does but feel free to bring them back if they are not to your satisfaction – Roderich cannot give you such a deal."

"Thank you," said Arthur, genuinely.

"Well, next is the armour. We will have to put you in it to make sure that it fits. Loose armour would not be good, would it?"

"Oh... no," agreed Arthur, automatically.

Going over to a stack of armour plates, Elizaveta shifted things around. Finally, she turned to Arthur with some chainmail. It glimmered in the firelight. He raised his eyebrows as she skipped over to him. "Now, I don't usually make chainmail since it takes so long and I get a lot of requests so this is the only one in the shop at the moment."

Arthur's eyes widened and he backed off, shaking his head. "N-No! I can't-"

"Sure you will. I have the feeling this will come in handy for you. Besides, since it is Alfred, I will give you a good deal."

From the front of the shop came a whoop. "Yes! Discounted goods! You are the best, Elizaveta!"

The woman giggled. "Wait until we are sure it fits him. Otherwise we will need to get you some leather protection."

"Right..." said Arthur, slowly.

"Just slip it over your shirt, dear."

Taking the chainmail, Arthur was surprised at how light it seemed. He had been expecting it to be heavy – he had been to medieval exhibitions at castles and the like before and they always seemed so heavy when the people lifted them up. Once, when he was just a boy, he had tried one on and he had been stuck on his back for a few minutes. This one, however, he was able to lift over his head and put on in one swift motion. It was a little too big in length, ending around mid-thigh, but still fit rather well. _Convenient_ , Arthur thought.

"Ooh! You look great in that!" Elizaveta cooed. "Now we need to find you a sword and anything else you would like. Want a crossbow?"

"Really?" asked Arthur, lighting up. He'd always wanted to learn archery and now he might even get the chance to, albeit with a different type of bow.

"If you would like one, then, yes. Right, Alfred?" Elizaveta called.

"Anything for Arthur," Alfred agreed. Arthur blinked at that: what did that mean?

"Right, then. This one is the newest model," Elizaveta told him as she led him to the rack which held them. She took a rather large one off and showed it to him, pointing out all the features Arthur had no idea about. Luckily, she even showed him how to set a bolt in the weapon and how to fire it so Arthur felt confident that he'd be able to use it.

Finally, it was time for a sword. Elizaveta started handing him sword after sword and telling him to swing them. He felt a bit silly and, honestly, he was beginning to think he'd slipped into Ollivander's Wand Shop. Then, after what seemed like hours, he picked up a sword and it didn't feel heavy nor did it feel like it would fly from his hands in a single swing. Obeying Elizaveta's instructions, he swung it. Elizaveta cheered.

"That looks like the one for you!" she exclaimed. "I told you, I have a skill with knowing which sword is right for a customer and I make all sorts!"

"Yeah..." said Arthur, swinging the blade a few more times.

"Oh! You're going to need a belt with a place to tie the scabbard." The blacksmith hurried off and came back almost immediately with a leather one. She helped him tie it on comfortably, over his chainmail which caused it to pull in at his hips. Then she tied the scabbard on and sheathed his new sword. "There you are!" she declared. "I will put your new clothes in a package so they do not get dirty in... other shops."

At that point, Alfred came forward. "So, how much is that?"

"For everything?" asked Elizaveta as she pulled out some brown paper and folded the clothes upon them. "Hm. A hundred silver blooms, please."

"A _hundred_!" exclaimed Alfred. His eyes were wide and his jaw quite literally dropped. "But _Elizaveta_!" he whined.

"I know you have the money!" she sang as she tied the package together with twine. "You always have lots of money after saving our princess."

Grumbling good-naturedly, Alfred pulled a pouch from his pocket and shook out some coins. They were large and gold, each one shaped like a flower. "Here," he said once he had counted out fifty of them.

"Thank you," Elizaveta said as they swapped the package for the money. "I hope the rest of your shopping goes well. And may the gods smile down on you."

"Same to you," said Alfred.

Arthur followed Alfred to the entrance where Francis was lingering. When he spotted them, he grinned. "My, my, Arthur. You look the picture of an adventurer."

Blushing, Arthur frowned at that. "Hm. I doubt it."

"Come now," Francis responded, taking Arthur's elbow. "It is high time we went to Roderich's Class Emporium."

"'Class'?"

"Mm. I am not sure why that is the name but do come with us. We have to cross to the other side of the square."

As it transpired, Roderich's shop was at the opposite corner from Elizaveta's, strategically placed so that it was closer to the castle. Once they had navigated the market – with Arthur being distracted by a pretty brooch shaped like a robin and had to be pulled away – they stood for a moment before the building. Nothing bar the sign declared it to be a shop and Arthur would have taken it for a private building had he not known any better. It was a pastel pink with elegant white swirls and borders. Arthur didn't think it looked like something two knights and a bard should be walking into.

However, Francis did not seem perturbed and pulled Arthur into the shop with Alfred following behind. The first thing which struck Arthur was the cleanliness of it. Wooden floorboards had been swept, washed and polished. A piano sat in a corner of the room amongst other instruments. Puffy and elegant dresses hung from rails on one side. Suits and tunics and other such things hung on the other. Upon tables in the middle of the room sat hats and fascinators. There was no counter but a curtain separated the back room from the consumers side. In the corner was another curtain, presumably for the changing room that Elizaveta had mentioned.

"Roderich!" Francis called into the shop. "I hope you are not lost back there!"

It was a few moments before someone pushed the curtain aside and walked out. He was tall and straight-backed. Dark, brown hair had been combed back neatly except for a single strand which seemed to bounce as he moved into the shop proper. His eyes were a dark blue, almost more violet in Arthur's opinion. He wore a pair of petite spectacles and had a mole just to the side of his mouth. While Elizaveta had seemed pleased to see them, Roderich didn't seem to be impressed. He was wearing a fancy purple suit with gold trimmings: the tails swayed behind him as he moved.

"Francis," he said, tone flat. "What are you doing here? Did you not buy something just yesterday?"

"We are not here for moi," Francis replied. He gestured wildly at Arthur with his arm and Arthur had to duck away from him for fear of being hit. "This is Arthur. He is a bard and-"

"A bard?" Roderich's eyes lit up and he paced forwards, looking Arthur over. "Do you sing or just tell stories?"

"I, uh, just tell stories." Roderich grimaced and Arthur quickly added, "But I _can_ sing. If you need me to?" What did singing have to do with anything? "Do-Do you _want_ me to sing?" Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to. He had the strange feeling that Roderich would only criticise him if the reaction was anything to go by.

"No. That is fine." Roderich turned back to Francis. "Why are you here?"

"Arthur will be attending the ball with us and he needs something nice," Francis explains. "We will cover the cost. Ah, he will probably need one of your wonderful cloaks, too. He does not have much with him."

"And some new boots!" Alfred piped up.

Rolling his eyes, Roderich gestured behind him. "Come with me. I must work in private and I need to measure you."

"Great!" said Alfred, suddenly. "I will leave this with you, Francis." He pressed the package into Francis's arms who seemed startled. "I must buy something else and shall return soon. Will you manage without me, Arthur?"

"Um. Yeah?" Arthur answered, glancing between Francis and Roderich.

"Of course he can!" retorted Roderich. "Now, sir, if you would follow me."

He really had no way to protest so Arthur followed Roderich back behind the curtain. The area seemed to be his workspace: there were tables with piles of organised materials and sewing equipment. A loom was in the back, though it seemed dusty. Presumably, Roderich did not use wool often or bought quality material from merchants. Several rolls of measuring tape were on each table and Roderich grabbed the nearest one.

"Remove your clothes, except for your breeches, if you are uncomfortable," Roderich ordered. He was rather blunt and it caused Arthur to blush. Quickly, he tried to do as he was told, fumbling on the belt. There was a sigh and, suddenly, Roderich's hands were brushing away his own. Startled, he dropped his arms and watched as Roderich began to undress him. His blush darkened when he realised that it had been quite some time since anyone had done such a thing for him.

When he was deemed to have taken off enough clothes, he wrapped his arms around his cold torso as he watched Roderich measuring him. The man had a cold demeanour which was such a stark contrast to Elizaveta's cheery conversation that Arthur felt he'd get whiplash. He also didn't seem at all curious as to how he had met Alfred or why he was with him and Francis.

Roderich moved back, at long last, and nodded. "Hm, well," he said as he ran his eyes over Arthur's body. The publishing assistant wasn't sure whether he should feel more embarrassed or not. Then Roderich shook himself. "I think I shall create a particular piece for you. It will take a few weeks but I can show you something you can try on for now."

"Oh, no," said Arthur, hurriedly. He had no idea how long he would be here – was he here indefinitely or would he be transported back to his own world? "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense. I take my work seriously and I must see that you get something to suit you." He held up Arthur's clothes. "If you want to get dressed before going back into the shop, you can."

"There's not much point, really, is there?" Arthur told him. Nevertheless, he picked up his garments and held them against his chest.

Walking back through to the front, Arthur could see that Alfred was back – and fidgeting. Francis was waving a hand at him, as if trying to swat Alfred away from him. Upon their entrance, both turned to look at them – Alfred's eyes widened a little when he saw them. As Roderich explained to Francis what he was doing, Arthur stared back at Alfred, wondering what he was looking at and why he was so surprised.

Finally, Roderich moved between them, breaking their line of sight, and Alfred jolted, looking away. Arthur frowned at him before following Roderich to where he kept his suits. The tailor sifted through them till he pulled out a blue and silver jacket with matching trousers and a white waistcoat. Buttons glimmered in the light and caused Arthur to blink in surprise. He didn't think he'd ever worn anything so fancy.

"Go try it on," was Roderich's order. "Come back out when you have it all on. I shall be at the piano." Placing a hand on the small of Arthur's back, he pushed the half-naked man through the curtain. He paused a moment to hang up the suit on the little hook before pulling back and tugging the curtain closed. Arthur stared at the barrier for a moment in silence until it was filled by the tinkling of piano keys.

Quickly, Arthur pulled off his trousers and got himself dressed. He marvelled at how soft and smooth it felt against his skin. It was much preferable to the things he had been wearing beforehand and better made than Elizaveta's. At the same time, Arthur felt like he couldn't move for fear of ripping the delicate clothing. When he was finished, he stepped out from behind the curtain, rather self-conscious.

The music stopped and all three turned their attention to him. Roderich nodded in approval, looking rather smug. Francis also seemed to approve, a smile on his face, whilst Alfred seemed shocked. "What?" Arthur asked him, frowning at his gaping mouth.

"Ah, oh, I- You look very nice," said Alfred, rather lamely.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur turned to Roderich. "So this is suitable?"

"Indeed. Francis is paying for it all. If you go change, I shall find you a cloak and some boots."

They parted ways again. This time, Arthur fancied he could hear frantic whispering as he carefully removed the fancy items. It sounded like Alfred and Francis and wondered what they were discussing that made them sound rather frantic. How they were going to pay for all of this, he presumed.

Returning to them with the clothes carefully folded, Arthur was just in time to witness Roderich reappearing with the aforementioned items. He approached Arthur, took the clothes from him, set them aside and then shook out the cloth. The cloak was a deep, forest green and looked rather spectacular. Without warning, he threw it around Arthur's shoulders and tied it around his neck. After he had made sure the bow was neat, he disappeared behind Arthur and straightened out the hood. While he did that, Arthur took the edge of the cloak and rubbed it. Again, the material looked expensive but it was also thickly woven and he could tell that it would keep most of the wind and rain out if he held the cloak closed. Roderich spun him around for Francis and Alfred's approval.

"Wow!" said Alfred, eyes wide again. "Hey, it almost matches your eyes. Not as be-bright, though."

"Oh," said Arthur, blinking owlishly. "Does that mean we're taking this one?"

"Oui," said Francis.

"The boots," Roderich stated, handing them over. They were a plain brown with a slight heel. The tops of them had been turned over and looked to be too big for Arthur. Nevertheless, he pulled them on and realised that they were absolutely fine. He smiled and nodded in approval.

"Yeah, they fit," he assured everyone.

"Bien!" Francis declared. "Let me pay and we can go back to the castle."

* * *

Once they had returned to Francis and Alfred's room and deposited their purchases, they decided to see about getting some food as the two knights hadn't eaten all day. Arthur wasn't as hungry but definitely a mite peckish. So Arthur got changed into his new clothes – behind the screen and with the express promise that neither would peek – and they made their way to the dining room.

Luckily for them, that was where they found Yao. He was sitting at the head of a long table, a variety of covered dishes spread around him. No-one else was present. The wooden sliding doors opposite the entrance had been left open so that there was a glimpse of the garden beyond. It seemed to be much like the front garden with the calming sound of a bamboo water feature.

"Ah, you are just in time for food," said Yao, gesturing to the meal. "Join me. Sakura will be here soon."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Alfred, bowing. Arthur quickly did the same, suddenly remembering the protocol.

Once they had all settled, Yao turned to Alfred. "Did your shopping go well?"

"It did," Alfred told him, staring at the food. Since Arthur was next to him, he could hear the knight's stomach grumble.

Yao sighed. "Go ahead. Eat. We will apologise to Sakura when she appears. Speaking of which..." He raised an arm again and servants appeared from nowhere. Most of them removed the silver lids but one went to listen to Yao whisper something in his ear. He nodded once and scurried away.

The food was all beautiful. Whole cuts of fish and beef with plenty of vegetables and a selection of fruits. A loaf of bread sat upon a wooden board, several slices already cut off. Dumplings and soup were in easy reach within several bowls. Crackers and cheese were also present and Arthur opted eat that instead of trying the rest.

Alfred, however, dug in, pulling several plates towards him. Arthur had forgotten about his massive appetite and flinched away from him. Across from them, Francis grimaced but mostly ignored his friend's actions as he began to eat his soup. Yao was not eating, apparently waiting for his daughter.

A few minutes into their meal, the servant from before rushed in. "Your Majesty!" he cried as he hastily bowed. "Sakura has disappeared!"

There was a brief pause. " _Again?!_ " said Yao. His eyes flickered over his suddenly still guests: Arthur was staring at him and he knew Alfred and Francis were doing the same. The king cleared his throat. "Find her. Bring her home. Now!"

And Arthur found himself amongst chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daisy is Fem!Italy by the way - I thought Daisy (one of the names she's given) would be cool because it ties in with Sakura. :) (And I like Alice for Fem!England.)
> 
> I also didn't mean for Arthur to notice the coincidences and convenience of getting exactly what he needed - it just kinda happened but I like it so.
> 
> Oh, and, the way Francis talks and having to address Sakura as Sakura-hime is because the author of the Corrinia stuff... was weird. He took bits and pieces he liked from different cultures and shoved them in.
> 
> FYI, the bit with Francis and Alfred saying that Sakura would like Arthur was actually, like, some weird sort of innuendo(?)/in-joke/thing between the two of them and entirely a lie. But Arthur doesn't know that because a newcomer being introduced to Sakura has never occurred in the novels, so.
> 
> (The woman with the dumplings: she gave Arthur them because he was polite and didn't snap at him like other people usually did. Arthur will never find this out and will likely forget about it entirely.)


End file.
